


Deja Vu (too far from over you)

by peachypunk



Series: but damn if there isn't anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, a suggestion of gun kink, steve is a brat and its billy's weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26324305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachypunk/pseuds/peachypunk
Summary: Steve needs a ride home. Billy just wants to get some sleep.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: but damn if there isn't anything sexier than a slender boy with a handgun [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885912
Comments: 16
Kudos: 136





	Deja Vu (too far from over you)

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is y'all. I had one idea and at 2am it turned into something very different but I still kinda like it? they're codependent assholes don't @ me
> 
> Alexa, play Toxic by Britney Spears

Billy’s phone is ringing. 

It’s the first night in  _ months _ that he doesn’t have a job to do or have to clean up someone else’s mess and he can get some goddamn sleep for once and his  _ phone _ is  _ ringing _ . He snatches it off the nightstand with a scowl.

“What?” He growls into it and the breathless laugh he gets in return has his breath caught in his throat. 

“You picked up,” A voice he could never forget says, happiness laced through the words, and Billy squeezes his eyes shut. He breathes harshly through his nose and then glances at the clock on his nightstand.

“Steve, it’s 2 AM,” He says, not that that means anything. Steve knows he’s usually up late, out for business or pleasure.

“I need a ride,” Steve’s voice comes sticky sweet like caramel through the phone and Billy pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Call an Uber,” Billy says shortly.

“I can’t,” Steve drawls. He doesn’t have to say the part that Billy knows. That his dad cut him off once Steve decided he didn’t want to take over the company. That he’d rather go to school for art than finance. That Steve lives paycheck to paycheck, working two shitty jobs to afford a place and a couple college credits each semester. That he doesn’t want Billy’s money because it’s  _ dirty _ .

“It’s 2 AM,” Billy repeats, letting his hand drop back on the bed.

“You owe me one,” Steve points out and Billy stares at the ceiling. It’s so dark that it almost feels like looking into the void. “Please?” Steve whines. Billy can almost see the pout and puppydog eyes Steve must be giving him. He sighs.

“Where are you?”

* * *

Billy cuts the Camaro’s engine as soon as he pulls up to  _ Rumors _ . The nightclub is one of the only spots in this part of the city his family doesn’t own. He scans the small crowd outside with a scowl, trying to pick out Steve through the masses, when he sees a lone figure with messy brown hair smoking under the rainbow flag near the corner of the building. 

Billy’s about to honk, maybe roll down his window to tell Steve to get his ass in the car, when he sees a tall guy with a buzzcut and cutoff shorts make a beeline right to Steve. He watches, unblinking, as the guy leans against the wall, practically hiding Steve from view as he whispers something in his ear. Billy is out of the car in the blink of an eye, shoes crunching on the gravel as he stalks towards them.

“Hey,” He says abruptly and gets the sick satisfaction of making the other guy jump, but Steve just turns toward him, a huge smile forming on his pretty face like he’s actually happy to see Billy for once. 

“Billy! You came!” Steve says, giggly and drunk, and Billy barely has time to shoot a smug smirk at buzzcut guy before he’s being tugged into a fierce hug. Billy’s eyes widen and he freezes up. He barely even registers that the buzzcut guy trudges away as Steve’s arms tighten around him, too caught up in a strange deja vu, like he’s nineteen again and Steve still talked about forever.

Steve doesn’t notice a thing. He pulls back with a dopey grin and looks Billy up and down. “Were you  _ sleeping _ ?” He asks incredulously, tugging on the string of Billy’s hoodie. Billy narrows his eyes, ignoring the way his heart flutters. 

“Why do you think I told you to get an Uber?” He says and something aches in the lost familiarity of Steve’s hands on him. Billy eyes him as Steve waves him off haphazardly, taking a final drag off of his cigarette before crushing it under his boot.

It’s unfair how good Steve looks. How pretty he is and how he’s somehow decided he’s okay with touching Billy now. All long legs in tight jeans and wearing a crop top that reminds Billy of a shirt he had years ago. He’s got goddamn glitter on his cheekbones.

“Whatcha doing here, pretty boy,” Billy asks, swallowing hard. Steve hums and cups the sides of Billy’s face with warm palms and cold fingers. His eyes are dark and warm, pupils blown wide with alcohol or happiness. Billy can’t quite tell. He doesn't really care either way, it’s been so long since Steve looked at  _ him _ like that. It makes something dark and longing twist up inside of him. 

“Celebrating,” Steve tells him with a matter of fact nod and then bursts into giggles. Billy grabs his wrists and tugs his hands away.

“Celebrating what?” He asks.

“Finals,” Steve says, still smiling as he pokes Billy in the chest. He keeps doing it despite Billy’s hands clenching around his wrists tight. Steve always was a messy drunk. Then Steve looks up sharply. He gives Billy a conspiratorial look as he leans in and whispers, “I don’t think I passed any of them,” before he snorts, laughing and ducking his head to let it rest lazily on Billy’s chest.

Billy looks down at him with a sigh. Something is aching deep inside of him that he refuses to touch. He lets it fester and burn instead. It’s easier that way. He loosens his grip, rubbing over Steve’s pulse point with his thumb. 

“Don’t see why you wouldn't,” Billy says, “You’re a smart guy.” 

There’s a beat where nothing happens, where they’re just standing there, leaning into each other like old times, shitty pop music thumping in the background with the smell of cigarettes and weed and autumn in the air. 

And then Steve is kissing him.

He kisses Billy hard, hands fisting into his hoodie and pulling him close and Billy’s whole body lights up like there are god damn fireflies dancing right under his skin. He doesn’t have time to think, not about how Steve doesn’t really want him and not about how he left, he can only kiss him back heatedly, running his tongue against the seam of Steve’s mouth and nipping at his lower lip the way he knows drives Steve crazy. 

Steve makes a little noise and then breaks the kiss, breathing hard and looking down his nose at Billy, a satisfied grin on his face. Billy chases after his mouth like a man starved but Steve puts his hand up to stop him, fingers splaying over his jaw and cheek as Steve tilts his head, watching him lazily. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“ _ Don’t,”  _ Steve says, voice soft and sweet and  _ dangerous _ , “Kiss. Me.” Steve says, patting Billy’s cheek a bit too hard to be playful and Billy snaps, shoving Steve around the corner and into the brick wall.

“What the fuck game are you playing, Harrington?” He growls, anger thrumming through his veins. Steve laughing is the last thing he expects.

“ _ Fuck _ , I forgot. You-” Steve says in-between giggles, head tilted back to look Billy up and down, “-are so  _ hot  _ when you’re angry,” He says and then drops his head to Billy’s shoulder as he snorts and breaks into another round of laughter. Billy clenches his jaw.

“You’re making it real hard to be nice, Stevie,” He grits out, a  _ threat _ , but Steve doesn’t seem to notice. He never seems to notice. Billy fists his hands in that stupid crop top to shove Steve back up against the wall and Steve lets out a breathless laugh, eyes bleary and unfocused.

“Mmm, you’re spinning,” Steve states, closing his eyes with a hum, and Billy’s fingers twitch, fist itching to throw a punch. He grabs Steve forcefully by the chin instead, watching through narrow slits as Steve’s dark brown eyes flutter back open.

“Are you  _ on  _ something?” Billy asks, frowning as he lifts Steve’s chin. Steve bites his lip and then shrugs.

“Dunno. Took something Robin’s friend gave me,” He says breathlessly and Billy drops his hands.

“Robin’s  _ here _ ?” Billy rakes his fingers through his curls. He needs a cigarette. “If Robin is here, why the fuck am I your ride?” He growls. Steve just pouts.

“It’s dyke night,” He says as if that explains everything.

“Jesus, Harrington,” Billy shakes his head, pushing away from Steve. He should be in bed getting his one night of good sleep for the month. Not dealing with this shit. He fumbles in his jacket for a smoke.

“Why are you being so mean?” Steve complains, pressing off the wall and stumbling into Billy’s side as he attempts to light his cigarette. 

“Fuck off,” Billy shrugs away from him and takes a deep drag.

“Billy,” Steve pouts, giving him those damn puppydog eyes that Billy has dreams about. Billy just turns away, blowing out smoke as he walks back to his car.

“Billy!” Steve shouts after him.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Billy calls over his shoulder. He doesn’t really care if Steve follows him.

Billy slides smoothly into the driver's seat as Steve stumbles into the passenger’s, but as soon as Billy peels away from the curb, tires screeching loudly against the night air, Steve reaches over and plucks the cigarette from his hand.

“Asshole tax,” Steve states when Billy gives him an icy stare. Billy’s fingers flex on the steering wheel.

“If you weren’t high out of your damn mind and I wasn’t so fucking tired, pretty boy,” Billy says warningly, but Steve just blows the smoke between them with a smile. It makes Billy’s chest ignite and he presses harder on the gas pedal, making Steve gasp and then laugh breathlessly next to him, eyes wide and wild as he looks out the windshield. Billy goes even faster, lights blurring as the engine revs and Steve throws his head back and laughs.

“You remember when you stole that car?” Steve asks, turning fully in his seat so he can face Billy, head resting against the seat to watch him. He ashes the cigarette and Billy’s jaw clenches.

“Gonna have to be more specific than that,” He bites out, but Steve is already shaking his head, biting his lip against a smile.

“No, we were like sixteen and you-” Steve snorts before he can get the rest out, “-you hotwired a Maserati!” He cries out, smiling bright, “You pulled up in front of my dad’s house and said we had to go joyriding with the top down,” Steve says fondly as he tips forward, catching himself on the armrest. Billy just grunts and checks his mirrors and his chest  _ burns _ . Steve makes a little sound.

“Hey! Do you remember?” Steve whines, suddenly very close -  _ too close _ \- and practically climbing over the center console to tug at Billy’s shirt.

“Jesus! Yes, I remember, sunshine, will you fucking sit still!” Billy shouts, shoving Steve back as his heart races. Steve goes back easily into the passenger’s seat and blinks wide eyes at him.

“What?” Billy snarls. He’s too tired for this shit. Steve doesn’t respond and the silence stretches between them until Billy is pulling into the parking garage of his loft. 

“You never call me that anymore,” Steve says softly as Billy puts the car in park and he can feel Steve’s eyes burning into him.

“Yeah, well,” Billy turns off the car and looks back at him, “Someone told me I should stop,” Billy says, holding Steve’s gaze for an intense moment before Billy is pulling himself out of the car. He makes a gesture at the security camera and manages to catch Steve by the elbow before he faceplants trying to get out of the Camaro.

“Such a lightweight, Harrington,” Billy mutters, slinging the other man’s arm around his shoulders. Steve is a line of heat against his side as he leans heavily into Billy, his nose pressed to the side of Billy’s neck when he turns his head against the noise of the loud security buzzer.

“We’re at your place,” Steve murmurs with a frown, warm breath ghosting over Billy’s skin.

“Always so observant, Stevie,” Billy grunts as he walks them to the elevator. He can see the glitter on Steve’s cheek out of the corner of his eye. He jabs the button for the top floor as Steve hums. 

“You smell good,” Steve slurs, pressing closer. He looks down between them and then back up at Billy all bleary-eyed. “And you’re strapped,” He says, breath hitching slightly as the hard metal digs into his thigh. 

“Always have a gun on me, pretty boy, you know that,” Billy says, tugging Steve out of the elevator and getting them into his apartment quickly. He doesn’t have the patience to deal with his security detail right now. Steve stumbles at the quick manhandling and manages to catch himself by looping his arms around Billy’s neck.

“Hi,” Steve giggles and they’re too close. Billy can smell the sweat still clinging to Steve from the club and the musk of the stupid Ralph Lauren cologne he always wears. He can feel Steve through his jeans, rocking slow and sensual against his hip, cock occasionally brushing his sidearm, and heat pools in Billy’s belly and goes right to his dick. 

This is such a bad idea. 

“Miss you sometimes,” Steve slurs, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of Billy’s neck. His eyes are unfocused as he stares at Billy’s mouth. He shifts forward, but Billy’s hand wraps around his neck, no pressure, just a heady weight as his thumb rests in the hollow of his throat and Steve sucks in a shaky breath. Billy tilts his head consideringly. 

“Thought you didn’t want me to kiss you,” He challenges and Steve’s eyes flick up to meet his. 

“I changed my mind.”

“You been doing that a lot lately,” Billy says carefully, words heavy in weight, and Steve makes a small noise of protest.

“You still owe me,” Steve says and Billy’s hand tightens ever so slightly as he bares his teeth. Steve shudders against him.

“Thought giving you a ride was my payment,” Billy bites out and a grin spreads on Steve’s face. He presses into Billy’s hand as he wets his lips.

“Not the ride I was thinking of, big guy,” He says, voice low and strained, and Billy’s careful control snaps. He pushes Steve against the wall and kisses him hard, heat flooding his body as Steve moans into his mouth and kisses back. 

Billy gets his hands under Steve’s thighs and lifts. Steve lets out a little yelp as Billy carries him to the bed, laying him out on his sheets before he reaches back to tug his hoodie off. Billy tosses it aside and then slowly reaches for his gun. Steve watches him with dark, hooded eyes as Billy leans over him, barrel of the gun brushing over Steve’s ribs and making him shiver before Billy is placing it carefully on the nightstand.

“ _ Fuck _ , Billy,” Steve sounds wrecked and Billy smiles wolfishly at him before Steve’s fingers are raking over his chest and then pulling Billy on top of him, kissing him wet and messy. Billy bites at Steve’s lower lip and then trails kisses over his jaw, fingers running up the pale expanse of Steve’s exposed sides, and Steve sighs happily. 

Billy sucks a mark right below Steve’s ear, a spot that never fails to make him melt, and Billy is rewarded with a soft moan and long fingers in his hair. Steve tilts his head to give Billy more room and Billy presses a smile into his skin. 

“Gonna give you a ride, pretty boy,” He murmurs, nosing down Steve’s neck as Steve hums. Billy bites at his collarbone before he moves further down, pressing a kiss right between his ribs. Steve has glitter on his stomach too, soft and pretty in the low light of Billy’s bedroom. It’s going to get all over his sheets, but Billy can’t bring himself to care. He kisses over Steve’s belly and is fumbling with the button on his tight jeans when a soft snore makes his head shoot up. 

Steve’s eyes are closed, dark, pretty lashes fanning across his cheekbones as his chest rises and falls with soft, steady snores. Billy groans and drops his head to rest on Steve’s stomach, dick half hard in his joggers. He pushes himself off the bed with a sigh.

“Fucking brat,” Billy murmurs, moving around the bed to grab a cigarette. He lights up and then palms his cock through his sweats. It gives a twitch of interest but a headache is starting to bloom behind his eyelids. He exhales a long stream of smoke. He glances at Steve and feels like punching a wall. 

He goes to the bathroom to take a leak instead, not looking at his reflection in the mirror and refusing to think about the ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet and the glass of water he would put out if things were different. But they’re not, so he won’t. 

Billy puts out his cigarette and heads back to bed, climbing in carefully behind Steve and throwing the covers over them. It’s so crushingly familiar, memories of late nights filled with sleepy smiles and wild laughter and neon lights flooding his mind, and Billy’s entire being  _ aches _ . His hand lifts without his permission, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair before he can think twice about it. Steve makes a sleepy sound and shifts closer to him. His hair is still so soft. It’s the last thought Billy has before he’s falling asleep, curled around dark hair and glitter and sunshine.

Billy wakes up to a cold bed and he’s not surprised, he  _ isn’t _ , but there’s a lingering bitterness of disappointment that stays on his tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! I have some backstory/smut planned next ;)
> 
> come say hi on tumblr @peachypunk22


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